Inevitable
by gr8rockstarrox
Summary: - because there's no rule that you always get it right the first time around - [draco/fem!harry]
**Title:** Inevitable

 **Summary:** \- because there's no rule that you always get it right the first time around -

 **Pairings:** Draco/fem!Harry

 **Rating:** T

 **Status:** Complete

 **Warnings:** Fem!Harry. You've been warned. Our dearest Potter is a girl, woman... You get it. Also, this work isn't beta-ed, just like all my other works.

 **Disclaimer:** JKR is a genius, let's bow down to her.

* * *

INEVITABLE

* * *

:-:

* * *

 _April, 2004_

* * *

"Potter," he greets her as she pulls out the chair opposite him.

It's one of those warm Sunday mornings, and the light streaming in through the diner's windows makes her hair look auburn, as compared to the usual black.

"Malfoy," she says stiffly, and Draco tries not to smirk at her.

"Tsk, tsk. So hostile right in the morning," he says, in an attempt to amuse himself. Because he knows for a fact that she'll react. It's funny how she hasn't changed over the years.

"I didn't appreciate the owl I got from you at some ghastly hour this morning. In case you didn't know, that's when normal people sleep," she bites out irritably.

He decides to play the sympathy card.

"Well, Potter, it's just that I thought your first Sunday since your divorce - well, you shouldn't be alone, and who'd be better company than me?"

At that, the irritation disappears, and her eyes soften. It's the first time he notices what a vivid green they are.

"Thanks Malfoy," she almost whispers, when the Muggle waitress saunters over to take their order.

* * *

:-:

* * *

When they step outside the diner after their meal, she asks him if he wants to have lunch with her this coming Wednesday.

He accepts her invitation without any hesitation.

* * *

:-:

* * *

"Do you enjoy working as an Unspeakable?" she asks.

It's not really small talk, but it's not really a conversation either. It's more of a conversation opener.

"I wake up every day eager to go to work. Does that answer your question?" he answers pleasantly, wiping his hands on a napkin, having finished his sandwich.

She hums in response and tilts her head to one side, seemingly lost in thought.

And then she sits up urgently and tells him very seriously, "We shouldn't become workaholics, Draco. We should balance our lives."

He smiles inwardly at how she's called him by his first name, for probably the first time ever. Outwardly, though, he puts on his most sombre look.

"Absolutely, Potter. We can watch out for each other. Like allies."

"And we'll also have fun! Who are _they_ to influence our lives anymore?" she says, almost as if she's promising herself something, her voice carrying the faintest tinge of bitterness.

Privately, Draco thinks it's lovely to see how she seems to be getting her old self back - as in, her school-day self back - once again. She'd looked so devastated and defeated after the confrontation nearly half a year ago.

He'll never admit it out loud, but it's nice to see his once-nemesis recovering so swiftly.

* * *

:-:

* * *

 _May, 2004_

* * *

It's Saturday, and they're sitting at Hyde Park.

Draco knows it's primarily a Muggle haunt, but it happens to be one of his most favourite places. It's something he's never shared with Astoria in the two years of their (failed) marriage, and yet, here he is, sharing his favourite place in London with Potter, just a few weeks into their temporary truce.

She's fidgeting a little nervously, and when he shoots her a questioning glance, she shrugs sheepishly.

"D-Does it feel odd? Not wearing a ring anymore?"

That's when he notices that she's removed her wedding ring too. And going by how non-distinct the tan line looks, he guesses that she removed it maybe a few months ago - definitely even before the divorce.

Draco looks at his own hand, which hardly has a tan. His Malfoy genes always ensure he's left pale without a tan.

"I think you get used to it," he says quietly, watching a Muggle boy play with a flying disc. He later learns from her that it's called a Frisbee.

They sit there for some more time, watching a few Muggle kids practice a sport called football. She explains the rules to him, and he finally understands the game - it's something that he's been trying to do on his own ever since he saw some kids kick a ball around four years back.

He thinks he hears her say thank you softly, but he isn't sure. It could have simply been the murmur of a breeze.

* * *

:-:

* * *

 _June, 2004_

* * *

They fall into an easy pattern. There's something comforting about following a habit.

They meet for lunch in the Ministry cafeteria every other day. Saturday mornings are for doing nothing at Hyde Park - she often brings a Muggle newspaper to read while he stares at the surroundings. On Sundays they meet for brunch. And some Friday evenings, she insists on the two of them going to the Muggle cinema theatres.

On a Tuesday, when he's walking her back to the Auror Department floor, she asks him almost nervously, "Hermione and Ron are hosting a get-together on Saturday. Would you like to come with?"

He pauses and turns to look at her. She pauses too, her face twisted in anxiety.

"Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson will be there too. Did you know Pug- sorry, Pansy is dating Seamus Finnigan? And it's okay if you don't want to come, really."

He waits for her to finish rambling.

"Did the Weasel really invite me, or is this _you_ inviting me?"

She sighs and tilts her head a little in exasperation before answering in a low voice, "It feels like all the Gryffindors are bringing a spouse or a lover, and I didn't want to be the odd one out there."

"So the Weasel won't be expecting me?" he asks, a plan forming in his head.

"The Weas- oh Merlin, _Ron,_ won't know. Hermione was the one who suggested that I bring a plus one."

He smirks at her, trying not to grin. "Brilliant, then. The Weasel's going to get the shock of his life."

She laughs a chiming laugh at this, and punches his arm playfully, as they continue walking once again.

He likes how she laughs. It's so different from Astoria's breathy laugh and his mother's polite ones. Hers sounds more musical. Or maybe it sounds that way because he hasn't heard her laugh in a while.

* * *

:-:

* * *

Draco shouldn't be surprised, _really._

Of _course_ , Granger (now, Weasley) and the Weasel would organise their get-together at The Leaky Cauldron, of all places.

He really shouldn't be surprised.

"Look at you, sulking in the corner, obviously enjoying yourself," says Potter, coming towards him with a teasing smile on her face. She's holding two flutes of champagne, and hands him one.

"If I'd known it would be at The Leaky Cauldron, I wouldn't have come," he says, trying to sneer.

"You know, if you stopped pouting in the corner and instead tried to mingle, it won't be so bad."

"Malfoys don't pout!" he protests, even as she grips his arm and pulls him out of his very comfortable place in the shadows.

"Look! Zabini and Parvati have just arrived. You go talk to him while I catch up with Parv, okay?"

And then she's off, yollering, "Paaaaarv," just as Blaise grimaces and makes his way towards him.

"Of course these ruddy Gryffindors would keep their get-together here," Blaise says, as a form of greeting.

Having already downed the champagne, Draco guides Blaise towards the open bar and replies in a snooty voice, "Seems Abott's dating Longbottom. And apparently Abott owns this place, so the Weasel and his wife got the place free."

"How tacky," says Blaise, before ordering two scotches for them.

When they're onto their third glass, he asks, "So who are you here with?"

"Potter, she invited me," he says, noting how his Italian friend's eyes widen.

"Potter after Astoria? Wow, your standards are rising," he whistles, and Draco isn't sure why he's uncomfortable with that statement. He doesn't like it when people judge him for his poor taste in choosing a wife.

"Wait, Merlin, when you said Astoria was with a Weasley, it wasn't Potter's husband, was it? I heard Potter divorced that dragon-keeper a few months back. Vati was telling me about how Potter is embodiment of an independent woman. Merlin!"

He finishes by ramming his glass onto the counter, which in turn earns the two of them a nasty glare from the blue-haired teenager who's serving them.

"Independent woman?" questions Draco quietly, deciding to not have anymore alcohol for the night. The pleasant buzz in his veins is enough to keep him social through the event.

"Seems she had him sign a pre-nup. And never changed her name from Potter to Weasley. Independent feminism whatever, but I don't want Vati getting any ideas."

"What do you mean?" he asks, an eyebrow lifting up.

"Parvati Zabini has a ring to it, doesn't it? And I don't want any pre-nups signed. It's like going into the wedding knowing that it will fail. I don't think any less of Potter for doing what she did, but I don't want that with Vati."

Draco's pretty sure that both his eyebrows have shot into his hairline.

"You want to marry Patil?"

"There's this time when you just want to settle, you know? And I want to do it. With her. There's no one else," he says, turning on his stool to watch the Indian girl, his eyes soft.

Draco turns as well, his eyes looking for his raven-haired date for the night. He sees her talking to Pansy and the other Patil twin, shaking her hands in an animated manner.

"Oh no, hell no!" exclaims Blaise getting up and hurrying over to his girlfriend. Draco sees that the Gryffindor substitute Chaser - Thomas, was it? - is chatting up Patil.

He watches in amusement as the Italian pulls the girl into a deep throated kiss in front of a stunned Thomas.

"Look at Zabini marking his territory. Are all men like that?" comes a voice to his left. And he doesn't need to turn to see who it is.

"Saw you talking to Pansy... Told her her nose looks like a pug's?" he asks, his speech slurring a little.

She chuckles.

"Nope, but she was kind enough to tell me that it's your birthday today. Why didn't _you_ tell me?" she asks, her eyebrows furrowing a little towards the end.

"Here, sit down," he says, patting the stool on his right. When she walks by, he realises what a perfectly shaped bum she has.

 _Why would anyone want to cheat on a wife as hot as that?_

"I have a present that I think you'll like," she says, leaning towards him, and he can smell her vanilla shampoo, a smell he's now overly familiar with.

"You didn't have to," he says, but she shakes her head and puts an arm around his shoulder.

"Oh, I _have_ to! Anyway, it's not like I bought it for you, it was actually gifted to me. But today seems like a perfect day for the both of us to enjoy it."

"When can we leave?" he asks, pretty sure it's that new Firebolt-X that, according to Witch Weekly, the company has gifted her with. It's not like he reads that gossip rag, it's just that he hasn't gotten around to cancelling Astoria's subscription yet.

"Patience, Malfoy. Mione and Ron haven't made their announcement yet," she says tilting her head and resting it on his shoulder.

It feels nice to have someone do that.

He wonders if the Weasleys are expecting a baby Weasel to be joining them soon, but he sees Granger politely sip a glass of red wine. So _that's_ not the announcement.

"What announcement?" he asks, but Potter changes the subject.

"How messed up is it that Dean's dating Padma? I mean, his ex's identical twin? That's something, huh?"

He lets her fill his head with useless gossip about the people present. He notices that it's not just Gryffindors who have been invited, there are quite a few Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws as well. And they're not necessarily of their batch. He doesn't quite know how he didn't notice it before.

The Weasleys finally make their 'big' announcement that they're moving across the Atlantic, to New York, for better opportunities. They thank Potter for her support and Draco turns his face to see her wearing an angelic smile, her eyes shining. She's lifted her glass up to acknowledge Granger's words.

He takes her hand in his and squeezes it, and she turns to look at him. To be the recipient of that smile makes something shift inside.

"Want to leave now?" she asks softly, even as the others start clapping for the Weasel and his wife.

Draco guides her by the elbow to the door, making their way past the people rushing to congratulate (and question) the couple.

The second they step out into the crisp summer air, she grabs him by the hand and Apparates the two of them to her house.

It's only when they're outside 12, Grimmauld Place that he realises, belatedly, that he never got a chance to annoy the Weasel.

* * *

:-:

* * *

Draco wakes up the next morning to find sunlight streaming in through a glass ceiling. He groans and shifts, to find a petite form huddled under a thin silk sheet next to him.

He realises that the two of them must have passed out on the sofa after sharing an entire bottle of Ogden's Old 1805 Firewhisky between them. He looks around, wincing at the harsh light, and figures out that they're in some kind of observatory.

Bloody hell, Potter has an observatory on the roof of her house!

He sits up and rubs his throbbing head, trying to decide whether he should wake her up, when he notices two vials of bright magenta liquid sitting on the table to his right.

Hangover cure.

It's only as he uncorks one of them and gulps the potion down that he realises, for the first time ever, that the woman sleeping next to him is indeed thoughtful.

He pulls the sheet over her properly, shaping his discarded robes into a makeshift pillow. He transfigures his tie into an eye cover for her, placing it over her closed lids gently, before making his way downstairs to see if he can rummage up something for breakfast.

In the end, he needn't have bothered with all that he did, because she comes bounding down some ten minutes later, a look of relief transcending her face when she sees him sitting in the kitchen, chatting with her old house-elf.

She announces that they'll go out for brunch, and Draco nods absently, still reeling from the calmness that taking care of her has brought him.

She doesn't return his tie, and he doesn't ask for it.

* * *

:-:

* * *

 _July, 2004_

* * *

It's slightly late on a Wednesday night when she comes tumbling in through the Floo in the living room. She lands flat on her back, and he's not entirely sure how it has even happened.

It's a coincidence that he was passing through the living room of the manor; he prefers sticking to the upper levels, particularly his study and the library, because those are the only few places in the manor which were not sullied by the presence of Voldemort.

"Oh, good. You're at home!" she exclaims, not making a move to get up from the floor. There are packages strewn next to her. And curiously, a large leather-bound book.

His interests perked, he goes up to her and holds out a hand. She pulls herself up, and before he can help himself, he brushes off the ash and soot which has gotten smudged onto her face.

His thumb lingers on her cheek, and her eyes shimmer softly in the lighting. He drops his hand to his side and decides to find out why she's there in the first place.

"What brings you here so late at night? And that too, _here_?" he asks, and he knows that she understands his question. Because no normal human being willingly comes to a place where they've undergone torture.

"It's just that every Wednesday Mione used to teach me how to bake. I was about to Apparate to her house after buying some base ingredients when I remembered that she's moved – she's not here anymore."

She plonks herself onto a tête-à-tête tiredly.

"What am I going to do every Wednesday?" she asks, throwing her head back.

"Why do you even want to learn to bake? You have a house-elf."

"Apparently it was a Potter household custom to bake sweets and snacks for the children when they went to Hogwarts, and send it to them by owl. I found it in my great-grandmother's grimoire cum journal. And I thought that if I ever have children, I'd like to continue that for them. And then I found a recipe book in the Black library, and Hermione was teaching me to make each item, one a week," she rambles, and Draco listens to her, almost smiling fondly at how fast she speaks.

"I'd offer to help you, but I have no expertise when it comes to cooking," he tells her, sitting on the other side of the tête-à-tête. She leans her head onto his shoulder.

"I know, but I didn't know who to go vent to. Ginny's on a date with Daphne. I'd go to Mrs Weasley, but Ginny told me that Charlie is staying at The Burrow. George and Angelina are on a vacation. Neville's out on an expedition with Luna and her husband. And I can't Floo Mione or Ron because it's the middle of the work day in New York."

Before he can answer, his mother comes swooping in in her silk robes, her hair immaculate, though he remembers her saying that she was going to bed an hour back.

Her eyes narrow shrewdly when she sees Potter raise her head hurriedly from his shoulder.

"Twinkle told me that we have a guest, Draco. Ah, Ms. Potter! How lovely to see you," she says in her cultured tone, and Potter stands up to greet his mother.

"Mrs. Malfoy! I hope I haven't disturbed you at this late hour. How have you been?"

"Very fine, dear. Tell me, is that the Black Recipe Book of Snacks and Savouries strewn on the floor so carelessly?"

Draco watches silently as his mother gushes over Potter's intentions to learn the recipes. What takes him by surprise is his mother offering to teach her.

She must have seen the look on incredulity on his face, because she announces to him with a sniff that all Pureblooded women are brought up knowing the intricate art of baking, especially for the tea parties they're supposed to host.

It's the first time that he ever thinks of baking as an _'i_ _ntricate'_ art.

And it's the first time since the war that he has spent so much time in this particular room.

* * *

:-:

* * *

Her birthday falls on a Saturday.

They're sitting at Hyde Park, as is their norm, when he fishes out three tickets to a Puddlemere match.

"Are you serious?" she asks, her mouth open.

"Happy birthday," he replies, surprised when she puts those thin arms around him and proceeds to squeeze the life out of him.

When she draws back, she looks at him, puzzled.

"Three tickets?" she asks.

"I remember you saying you wanted to take your godson out to a Quidditch match."

If her previous hug did not do its task of breaking his ribcage, the one she gives him now comes close to doing so.

"Pot-ter, ca-an't brea-the," he chokes out, which is when she moves back and plants a kiss on his cheek. It's dangerously close to his mouth, the kiss even touching the corner of his lips.

"You're an amazing person, Draco. Don't let anyone tell you anything else," she announces cheerfully, before she whips out that Muggle portable phoney-thing of hers.

"Andy, remember how I said I'll take Ted out for dinner tonight? The plan's changed, I'm taking him to a Puddlemere match!" she says excitedly, as Draco leans back onto the park bench, stretching his right arm out on the back rest.

She leans back to nestle herself into him, still speaking into that Muggle device, and she adopts a baby voice when she talks to, presumably, her godson.

She stuffs the thing back into her bag, before leaning her head onto the crook between his arm and his body.

"So we'll have to pick Teddy up by four this evening. I want to go early enough to buy him a Puddlemere t-shirt," she says, and though he can't see her face, he knows she's grinning.

"Potter, I bought the tickets for you, your godson, and your godson's grandmother," he tells her softly, but that makes her whip her head towards him.

"What! Are you out of your mind? It's going to be you, me and Teddy," she says resolutely. And then she adds uncertainly, "Unless you don't want to come?"

"It's not about whether I want to, it's about whom you want to invite to spend the evening with you."

She twists a little and wraps her arms around his waist and looks up at him with those green eyes of hers.

"What makes you think I wouldn't want to spend the evening with you?" she says, and between the warmth of her body against his and the smell of her vanilla shampoo, he begins to believe that she really does want him around.

* * *

:-:

* * *

 _November, 2004_

* * *

Summer soon turns to fall, and fall soon turns to winter, and Draco finds that Potter has not grown tired of him in the least.

She still comes to Malfoy Manor every Wednesday to bake through that book of hers, much to Mother's delight. The only difference is that she now comes a little early to join them for dinner.

It's late at night when she comes rushing into his bedroom, wearing a silvery dress that comes only to her thigh.

"Draco? Are you awake? Get up! Get up!" she cries, tugging on his arm, and he's not entirely sure how she got inside his house, let alone his room.

"Potter?" he croaks out, because what she's wearing makes all his blood rush to the lower part of his body. She looks so bloody sexy that he's not entirely sure that he's not dreaming.

"Guess what I found out?" she asks, her speech slurring a little.

She pulls him up, and once he's sitting cross-legged on the bed, she throws herself onto his lap, wrapping her hands around his neck. As his drowsiness lifts off a little, he realises that she smells of Firewhisky.

He flicks on the lights using his wand, to see that her lips are painted a bright red. And she's pouting them so adorably that it takes a tremendous amount of self restraint on his part to not lower his head and take those lips between his teeth.

"They're getting married. On Christmas Day. Gin-Gin told me," she announces a little sadly.

Draco's not entirely sure why she sounds sad. Was she not over that dragon-tamer ex of hers? And why is he preoccupied with how she feels, when he should be analysing his own feelings over Astoria getting married hardly a year after their divorce?

He finds that he honestly doesn't care. The hatred he had once felt towards the voluptuous brunette has faded into apathy.

"Don't tell me you're upset that they're getting married," he tells her, trying not to sneer.

"Of course not, silly! Why would I be upset about those two twats getting married? It's just that I think we should have moved on before they moved on. Since we are the _gooder_ people, we should have gotten married first," she announces, her language making it clear that she's really pissed.

"There's no hurry for us, you know? We can take our time," he says, trying to ignore his body's reaction to having her sitting on him.

She squirms a little on his laps, and it doesn't help matters as he feels his length harden. And he's pretty sure she's aware of it too.

Because she giggles.

"Oooh, Draco, you pervert," she says, before dissolving completely into a set of giggles, which is punctuated by the occasional hiccup.

Draco pushes her off him, and she lands on the bed, where she proceeds to sprawl horizontally.

"I'm sleepy," she complains.

Draco sighs and pulls her ridiculously high heeled footwear off her feet, tossing them onto the floor.

"Careful, they're Jimmy Choos. Choo, choo!

He ignores her drunken ramblings, and _accioes_ a couple of t-shirts from his closet. Because it looks like she's decided to sleep in his bed tonight, and he doesn't want to sleep next to her in just his boxers.

Merlin knows he doesn't need that skin on skin contact.

When he proceeds to wear one of them, she protests by pulling her leg up and placing it on his shoulder.

"Don't block my view, you have lovely abs. And you have that V at your waist. Even Charlie didn't have that," she says, and Draco tries not to choke at what she's said.

Also, he can see the red thong that she's wearing, now that her dress has ridden up... And Merlin, is she this flexible in bed?

He removes her leg carefully from his shoulder and wears his shirt before she can say or do anything.

"Spoil sport!" she cries out, and Draco drapes the other t-shirt over her, watching as she snuggles into it, already sleepy.

He's about to turn off the lights when he notices that she still has that Muggle paint on. What was it called? Make-up or something. And he remembers Astoria throwing a fit once over him suggesting she get into bed _before_ she could finish her cleansing ritual.

Draco casts a _Scourgify_ on Potter's face, watching as the paint disappears with the bubbles. Her nose twitches when a bubble pops next to it, but she continues sleeping, undisturbed.

He tucks the duvet around her before turning off the lights and calling it a night.

* * *

:-:

* * *

When he wakes up the next morning, she's not next to him.

He turns around to see her walking out of his closet. She's wearing the t-shirt he'd wrapped around her last night... and a pair of boxers that she's stolen from his closet.

"I hope you don't mind," she says, before climbing back onto the bed.

"No hangover?" he asks, his voice still clogged from his sleep, but she grins at him.

"Nicked a hangover cure from your bathroom. And you have such a lovely bathroom," she sighs, plopping her head back onto the pillow.

"Don't tell me you're going to sleep again," he says, but she only moans in response.

"You have such a comfortable bed, Draco. How do you even get up every morning?"

They both lie in silence, as the sun steadily starts creeping upwards.

"Tell me about her," she says softly.

"What is there to tell?" he asks.

"Everything," she answers, taking hold of his left hand and squeezing it.

So he starts from the beginning.

"I met her at a party that Daphne was throwing to celebrate Theo's promotion. I mean I already knew her from all the Pureblood parties that I used to attend as a child, but that was the first time I was talking to her since we'd both graduated from Hogwarts.

"She was charming and wonderful and the epitome of all things Pureblood. I was hooked onto anything and everything she had to say, and each story was so wild and colourful, that I couldn't stop listening.

"The party soon got over, but I found myself wanting to not stop listening to those stories. So I asked her out, and she said yes. She was a creatures activist and always had new stories to tell me. We dated for about a year and every day, I fell for her more and more.

"I realised that I was madly in love with her, and so I had an engagement ring made for her. It's a Pureblood practice to confess your love only before you propose marriage. I knew she wouldn't like my grandmother's engagement ring - it was too ordinary for her tastes - so I used Daphne's help to pick out a design that she would like.

"I told her that I was in love with her and that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her one night, in the middle of a restaurant. She said yes almost immediately, and then told me that she loved me too. I remember feeling like the luckiest man alive."

He pauses for a while, swallowing to ease that tightness which has formed inside his chest. Because it's painful, thinking about that day. After a while, he continues.

"Things went along fairly quickly after that. She started planning the wedding. And her plans did not sit well with my mother. My mother hated her and she hated my mother, which prompted my mother to draw up a contract with the Greengrass family. Astoria didn't like that one bit. So we bought a house in Sussex for the two of us to live in.

"She and my mother exchanged words and Astoria threatened to leave for good. I cajoled her into not breaking the engagement off, and though initially she was annoyed, a paid trip for her and her sister to Romania soon bought her forgiveness. I'm guessing that that's where she met Weasley.

"We had a spring wedding, because that's what she wanted. And we soon settled into marital bliss. The first few months were absolutely wonderful. And then a year into our marriage, I noticed that she was slowly becoming distant. I first chalked it up to the post-honeymoon slump and let it slide.

"A few months after our first anniversary, I found out that she was still on the potion. I was confused, because I thought she wanted to have children with me. When I confronted her, she said that she didn't want children at the moment, not when she still had so much to live for as an individual. But I loved her, and supported every decision of hers, and decided to wait till she was ready.

"Our second anniversary passed by and we celebrated it quietly. I was surprised because she's the type who likes ostentatious things. At that time, I didn't question her sudden quietness too much.

"Our sex lives slowed down incredibly, and I assumed it was because of the late hours I was pulling. Astoria announced that she was stopping the everyday potion because they were giving her headaches, and instead started using morning-after potions.

"A month or so after that, I had to leave to Spain to collect some ancient manuscript for the department, and when I came back a week later, I found her potion bottle half empty.

"I had my suspicions, but I did not confront her. A couple of days after that, I noticed that the amount of potion in the bottle had further dwindled. I suspected that she was cheating on me, but I wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt.

"The contract that my mother had drawn up was a blessing in disguise. It provided a method for either spouse to determine whether the other had been faithful to them using our wedding rings. Each ring also acted as a Portkey to the establishment where its pair was.

"I activated the charm and went to work as usual. In the middle of my lunch hour, my ring started shining a bright blue. I went home quietly and there she was, fucking your ex-husband right in the master bedroom, where we'd first made love as a married couple. I recognised him from the wedding pictures of the two of you in the Prophet. I was so angry that I wanted to snap his neck right then.

"But they didn't realise that I'd seen it; seen them. I decided to give them a couple of months, hoping that it was probably only a temporary indiscretion on Astoria's part. I was in denial over the whole thing. Because Astoria couldn't have done that to me, could she? She loved me and I loved her. I was desperate to believe that everything was fine.

"I told my mother the truth, and she signed me up for anger management classes as a pre-emptive measure. She also had me go to a mind healer in France who helped wizards and witches get into the right frame of mind for a divorce.

"By then, I'd realised that it was permanent. I had my lawyers draw up the divorce papers. According to the contract Mother had drawn up, I could have repudiated the marriage. But I opted for a divorce. Because even though she cheated on me, I didn't hate her. The healer had ensured that any hatred I could have felt was converted into indifference. And repudiation would mean she couldn't have married anyone anymore. I didn't want to be the one to ruin her life.

"My papers were ready and the lawyers had in fact dropped them off personally at the Ministry one day so that I could sign them, when I saw you in the Atrium, laughing yourself silly over something that Granger and the Weasel had said.

"There was something about you at that moment, how carefree you were. That joy on your face was beautiful. And I knew that you deserved better than the bastard you were married to. You deserved someone who would be honest with you, who would respect you. I almost felt bad about what I was about to do.

"I sent you a letter about what I had seen, and told you I'd give you your proof, all anonymously. And as for the rest of the story, you know how it all ended. With you and me barging into that hotel in Ireland, me serving Astoria the divorce papers, and you slapping your husband."

There's a silence in the room when he finishes his long tale, and he only knows that she hasn't fallen asleep because of the circles she's drawing on his hand using her thumb. They're soothing.

"It was a good slap, wasn't it?" she asks at long last.

"A ruddy good one," he replies, glad that she hasn't run away after hearing his dismal and boring tale.

* * *

:-:

* * *

 _December, 2004_

* * *

"Draco?" she asks, looking up from the soup she's been sipping ever so slowly.

It's a Friday night, and they're eating dinner at a local steakhouse, having just finished watching a Muggle movie in the theatre.

The movie had been so boring and insipid that Draco's already forgotten its name. He'd in fact been fast asleep, when Potter's sniffles had woken him up. And after that, he'd had to hold her as she bawled into his shirt.

"What?"

"Are you free this winter? Can you take a break from work?" she asks, biting her lower lip. And being the male that he is, his eyes can't help but zero in on that.

It's been this way for the past few months, since her birthday, when she almost kissed him. He's been thinking of her body at the most inappropriate of times. And he has been taking cold showers nearly everyday to keep his head straight.

"Apart from the week that the Ministry gives us? Yeah, sure. I have days saved up," he tells her carefully, watching the grin that forms on her face.

"Excellent! Can I interest you in a trip to California? I'll pay for your Portkey, if that's a problem."

"California? Like that place in America?"

"Exactly like that place in America. It'll be warm and sunny. And it won't be just you and me. Teddy and Andy are coming too," she says, smiling when she mentions her godson.

"I'd love to, Potter, but I can't leave my mother alone. Not on Christmas Day. She finds it hard as it is, living without my father."

Surprisingly, Potter's face brightens up.

"I spoke to Cissa already! She's all on board. She wants to spend time getting to know her sister again. In fact, they're meeting up for lunch tomorrow, so I'll have to babysit Ted."

Draco lets his spoon rest in his bowl.

"So if I say no, I'll be the one left alone on Christmas?" he asks, not liking how he's feeling.

"Awww, stop looking like that! I just wanted to be sure that you'd say yes," she says, taking hold of each of his hands in each of hers and squeezing them tightly.

"Fine, I'll come with you," he says, and she squeals. She actually squeals.

And then she leans across the table and plants a kiss right on his mouth. It's momentous and chaste, and before he can comprehend what she's done, she's on her phone thing, chattering away to Andy excitedly.

He tries to continue eating his chicken soup calmly.

* * *

:-:

* * *

"I told you you'd like it," she says, looking up at him lazily.

They're both relaxing on the beach, while the two Black sisters are keeping an eye on the young Metamorphmagus, who's building a sand castle right next to the waves.

Draco tries not to let his eyes wander anywhere below her chin. She's lying down on a blanket, facing the sky, as he sits stiffly next to her, reading the newspaper. She's wearing a very revealing one-piece, and he knows that if he lets his eyes wander to her chest, he's going to be _very_ aroused.

"Oh c'mon, relax! We're at a Wizarding beach, for Merlin's sake. Don't be such a grumpy git," she says playfully, poking him on the side.

Draco sighs and keeps the newspaper down, and an enlarged picture of him dumping Potter and her godson into the water meets his eyes.

"It's time for you to recast your anti-burn spell," he reminds her, wondering what new fodder today's outing will give the media.

"It's funny, isn't it? They think we're getting married in a vineyard in California just to spite Astoria and Charlie," she laughs, as he shakes his head and tries not to watch how gracefully she casts the charm over herself.

"Like what you see, Malfoy?" she asks, a smug smirk on her face, when she catches him admiring how delectable her neck looks.

Draco knows that it's not the sun that's causing his ears to burn.

"Shut up, Potter," he says.

She simply laughs that tinkling laugh of hers.

* * *

:-:

* * *

The wizarding town they've stumbled upon has a fair going on, even though it's the middle of winter. Draco assumes that these American wizards are very different from their British counterparts.

And now, he has given in to Potter's persistent requests of going on the Ferris wheel, which is why he finds himself alone with her as the wheel moves upward. She's clutching his hand excitedly and is grinning broadly.

Ted has not been allowed because of his age, and Andy and Mother have chosen to stay back and look after the angelic brat. Draco finds the lack of their company a relief.

The sun is setting, and its light makes her more beautiful than ever. Her hair is that weird shade of black and auburn once again, and her teeth are gleaming.

"Did you know that we can see the sun till two minutes after it has set because of atmospheric refraction? The same way, we can see the sun two minutes before it actually rises. So we get daylight for about four minutes longer than the actual length of the day," she finishes triumphantly.

His lack of a response makes her turn in her seat.

"I learnt it in school, Muggle school, before Hogwarts. You should read some Science. You'll like it," she says seriously, misinterpreting the look on his face.

"Potter?" he says, his voice almost a growl.

"Yes, Drakie?" she asks, her voice almost a squeak as he leans in closer.

"Never shut up."

With that, he leans towards her with every intention of capturing her lips in a kiss, only to find that she's already kissing him.

And it's better than every fantasy he's had of kissing her, because the actual feel of her lips on his, the taste of her mouth, the delectable sounds she's making - none of them can ever be dreamt about.

They finally break apart completely only when they reach the bottom again, though she's still close enough that he can smell her hair.

"Damn, we missed the view from the top," she says, pouting.

He leans in and kisses that pout away, till the man in charge of the wheel chucks both of them out.

It's the secret smiles that his mother and his aunt shower him with that makes him realise that they'd probably seen the two of them snogging like teenagers.

But it doesn't matter, because Potter hasn't stopped grinning like a lunatic, and he's pretty sure his face mirrors her expression.

* * *

:-:

* * *

 _January, 2005_

* * *

Ever since that kiss on the Ferris wheel, the two of them have become more physical in their affections. They haven't had sex yet, but it's nice to hold hands and sit extremely close to each other for warmth.

They've taken to kissing each other as a way of greeting, much to Witch Weekly's delight. But those articles don't stop her from placing open mouthed kisses on his lips when they meet in public.

She says she won't let the media dictate what she does where.

In private, her kisses are not so chaste. She has this way of kissing his jaw which makes it very hard for him to not just throw her onto a bed and have his way with her.

He usually retaliates by nibbling on her neck, because she's oh-so-sensitive there. But it's sort of masochistic, because she usually groans and gasps in such a sensual way that it makes all his blood rush south.

He doesn't take it any further, though, because he wants her to set the pace. He wants her to decide what they're doing. It's always been a principle of his.

And right now, she's looking at him wantonly from where he's pinned her against the wall. She's breathing hard, her lips still swollen from his having ravished her mouth.

Her pupils are so dilated that he can hardly see the green of the irises. She bites her lower lip and when Draco makes to move in and snog her once again, she smirks up at him.

"I think it's time you stopped being such a gentleman and took me to bed, don't you think?" she asks, her voice heavy with lust.

So he proceeds to do exactly as the lady asked.

* * *

:-:

* * *

It's very early in the morning. The sun hasn't risen yet.

"I never loved Charlie," she says, so quietly, that he thinks she's probably not aware that she's speaking out loud.

He threads his fingers through hers, and turns to face her, waiting for her to continue.

She shifts closer to him, as if to check if he's really there, before she continues.

"I never loved Charlie. But I loved the Weasleys. Still do, actually. I wanted to be a Weasley so badly. I remember when I boarded the Hogwarts Express for the first time. I saw a large family of redheads, and I knew that I wanted a family like that some day.

"I'm not talking about the size, but just that feeling of belonging and that unconditional love. And for a while, after the war, I was so caught up in enjoying being alive and free that I forgot my heart's innermost desire - to have a family like the Weasleys.

"It was a little after Ron and Hermione's wedding. I was piss drunk and lonely. Those two had gone off on their honeymoon. I was in the kitchen at The Burrow – that's the Weasley family home – drinking myself into a stupor, just the way I'd been doing for a week, when Charlie came storming from outside, his face so flaming red. I can still vividly remember how he demanded a drink.

"Soon we were drunk enough, and we finally got talking about why each of us were drinking. Apparently Molly – that's Mrs. Weasley – had threatened to arrange a marriage for him through Skeeter Marital Services if Charlie didn't marry within the next two years.

"I was drunk enough to admit that I just wanted to be a Weasley, and well, that was it. He very courteously courted me for a month to make the others think that we were madly in love, and then we announced our engagement.

"Charlie didn't want kids. He didn't want to be tied down, said he didn't believe in true love. I just wanted to belong. I wanted kids, but that wasn't a part of our agreement. We actually made an unofficial document about what we both wanted from the marriage. It was so clinical, to be honest."

She smiles a little sarcastically at the ceiling, even as her fingers squeeze his.

"The agreement was that we'd respect each other and treat each other the way loving couples did. And maybe, if the fates wanted it, we'd even fall in love over time. That was the entire premise of our relationship.

"He shuttled between Romania and Britain, and I was only too happy to have my space, you know? We had sex a few times, but I guess both of us were just not into it. Anyways, we both led sort of independent lives. But that didn't mean I didn't like his company. I had my friends, but I felt so... so lonely on the inside. Being with him made it a little better.

"And then that letter from you arrived. I didn't know it was you at the time. If I'd known, I wouldn't even have agreed to meet you," she says, turning to look at him briefly, before turning back to stare at the ceiling.

"When I saw those two having sex in that hotel, my first thought was that Charlie had broken one of the most fundamental rules of our arrangement - that we respect each other. Which was why I slapped him.

"But the second I slapped him, I was... I was just so relieved. I no longer had to be tied down. And being married to him had got me the same amount of affection as what I'd got from Molly before. I was just so relieved to end the masquerade and try to find the real thing.

"The thing is, I saw Charlie and Astoria a couple of days after that, shopping together for groceries. That's when I realised that they were in love, like really _really_ in love. And that's what broke me. That maybe everyone except me could find love. That maybe I was unlovable; maybe something was fundamentally wrong with me.

"I thought it was because of having a rotten childhood. Or maybe because I died and could no longer be loved. I don't know. I didn't know. I was so depressed that I disappeared from society for a while."

Draco thinks she's crying a little now, so he holds her close, so that his chin touches the top of her head.

"Ron and Mione were supposed to move to New York back then. But they didn't. They chose not to go and instead hunted me down. And they convinced me to come back. They're such wonderful friends," she sniffs.

"Everyone was so sympathetic, because they thought I was heartbroken over Charlie cheating on me. And Molly was so distraught. But she promised me that I would always be the eighth Weasley kid, you know?" she says, her voice breaking a little.

So Draco pulls her even closer to him so that her head is now on his chest, and so that she faces him.

"And then you came around and you were so charming and polite and so understanding... I wanted to tell you the truth that day, on my birthday. I felt like I was lying to you. But I was selfish. I didn't want you to leave me. I liked spending time with you.

"Remember when your mother asked me to spend Samhain with you and we spent the entire day deciding who the better Seeker was? That was the day that I actually decided to pursue you. It was a conscious decision. Not that I wasn't pursuing you before, but it was then that I decided to actively work towards it."

She looks into his eyes, her eyes intense with some nameless emotion, and he stares back unflinchingly into those _green-green_ eyes, his throat heavy.

"Whatever you said, it doesn't change my perception of you, you know?" he tells her, even as he knows that something about this grey morning is going to change things for him. Forever.

"I just wanted our slates to be clean," she says quietly.

"And why now, after all this time?" he presses gently.

"I think I might be in love with you," she says, her face slightly pink.

He angles his face downward and kisses her earlobe, before whispering, "That's good, because I think I might be in love with you too."

Needless to say, they spend the rest of the morning making love and exploring each other's bodies.

* * *

:-:

* * *

 _April, 2005_

* * *

They've been telling each other the silliest of stories, of their childhoods and their times at Hogwarts, when her phone starts ringing loudly, making him almost drop his butter knife.

He's still pondering over how ingenious his grilfriend must have been to trick him into letting her and the Weasel into the Slytherin common room, when she starts grinning like a maniac.

She keeps her phone down on the table (she'd made him learn the proper term - cellular phone or mobile phone) and then comes over to his side, before planting herself on his laps.

"Guess what?" she asks quietly, still grinning.

"That Muggle band with screechy teenagers which you liked so much has decided to regroup and sing some more?" he guesses.

"Silly Draco," she admonishes, kissing him on the nose, before smiling once again. There's jam stuck on her lips and teeth.

He uses that as an excuse to kiss her, till she playfully bats him away, pouting.

"If you do that, I'm not going to be able to tell you the good news! Mione is apparently pregnant... Eight weeks, the healer thinks, and Ron told me it might be a little early, but they're thinking of making me the godmother, and if you're around when the baby's born, they said we'd _both_ be the godparents," she finishes excitedly.

He doesn't know how the Weasel's been brought around to even consider him to be a godparent, but Draco thinks that he'll do a wonderful job of being a godfather.

After all, his godfather, Severus Snape, had been the best godfather anyone could have asked for.

* * *

:-:

* * *

It's the end of April, and they're sitting in the magically cooled rose gardens that Mrs. Zabini has maintained over the years.

The past few days have been hard on them. It's not that they've fought, but they've been exchanging stories about the war, and it's so obvious that both of them are still not completely healed. He'd been horrified when she explained something that had been plaguing him for the past few months - that she really had died during the war.

But they'd held and helped each other through their confessions, and she'd even lifted his wrist to her mouth and placed a kiss on the faded silvery scar from the Dark Mark (as she does every day) after he'd told her the story of how he'd been forced to Cruciate a Muggle.

He'd almost laughed when she apologised for nearly killing him in their Sixth Year, but instead, he'd thanked her for giving him a wicked sexy scar. She'd hit him in the face with a pillow for that.

"It's so funny to think Parvati would end up marrying Zabini. I remember how she used to hate him back in Fourth Year," she says, bringing his attention back to the present.

She's sitting with her head on his shoulder, sipping on a large glass of orange juice.

"Ms. Potter, do you remember how _we_ used to hate each other?" he asks, tugging on her hair playfully, making her turn around and stick her tongue out at him.

She's wearing the same purple dress that all the other bridesmaids are wearing, and she looks adorable sitting next to him, swinging her legs up and down.

"Well, Malfoy, you always had to antagonise me, picking on me for the silliest of things."

"You won't believe how much you infuriated me, Potter," he drawls, and she giggles.

"Do you think we'll get married someday?" she asks, the tone of her voice thoughtful.

"If we both want it, then we'll do it," he says, pulling her onto his lap and nestling her under his chin.

She wriggles a little to get herself comfortable, before turning her face sideways to rest it on his chest.

"I love you, you know? he tells her. It's the first time he's ever told her that.

"I know. And I love you too," she replies, angling her face to kiss his chin, before going back to sipping her drink and just being.

He kisses her on the head and holds her tight, listening to her breathe as she listens to his heart beat.

* * *

:-:

* * *

 _December, 2005_

* * *

Draco sits in the hospital chair, holding his newborn daughter. He still can't believe the fact that he's actually a father, responsible for this tiny bundle of joy that his girlfriend's given him.

"Draco?" comes a gentle voice from the bed, and he gets up carefully to go give her a kiss on the forehead.

"She's beautiful, isn't she?" she says, tears streaming down her face, her face alight with peace and contentment.

"She's our daughter, of course she is," he tells her haughtily, before gingerly handing the baby over.

"Have you thought of names?" asks the black-haired witch, gently smoothening the baby's tuft of platinum blonde hair.

"How does Lily Narcissa sound?" he asks, and she turns to look at him, her eyes watery.

"Would you really do that for me?" she asks, and there's something about the way she asks it that topples his entire world.

"I'd do anything for you. Both of you," he says, placing his arms around the two of them, his _family._ As all new parents do, they watch the baby with love and adoration written on their faces, until the visitors all come in, led by Teddy, the hooligan.

* * *

:-:

* * *

 _September, 2012_

* * *

They finally get married because their six year old daughter and four year old son persistently ask why mama doesn't have the same last name as them.

"This is once again going to take getting used to," she says, holding her left hand out in front of their faces, looking critically at the platinum ring glinting in the sunlight.

At the moment, they're both sitting on a park bench in Hyde Park, keeping an eye on their children. It's easy to keep an eye on them because of their distinctive hair colouring.

He knows for a fact that his wife had been disappointed when Sirius was born with blond hair instead of the traditional Potter hair colour, black.

Draco closes the Muggle book he's been reading and holds up his hand as well, splaying out his fingers and placing them on her hand gently.

"Look, we match," he deadpans and she nudges him sharply in his ribs.

"Very funny, Malfoy."

"I love you too, Potter _,_ " he says softly, but before she can respond, Lily comes running to them dragging a fuming Sirius behind her.

"What did you do this time, Sirius Severus?" questions his wife, looking sternly at the younger child.

"I did nothing, Hyacinth Jaimee," retorts the boy, stamping his foot in true Malfoy fashion.

Draco tries not to laugh at the expression on his wife's face, and instead watches a bunch of teenage Muggle boys play with a Frisbee.

It takes him back to that first Saturday they spent on this very same bench, looking at all those Muggles play various games.

At that time, he hadn't known that they would turn into something more, but looking back now, he thinks that him and Hyacinth falling in love had been inevitable all along, probably right from that moment they met in Madam Malkin's shop when they were eleven.

Right now, sitting on this bench with his family, he thinks that maybe whatever happened, possibly happened for a reason. That everything that had happened only happened to lead him to this very moment that he's living.

And Draco knows that there's no other place he'd rather be.

* * *

:-:

* * *

End Notes:

1\. Not really an epilogue, but I'd like to imagine that Rose and Lily are best friends and that Hugo and Sirius are best friends.

2\. _Scourgify,_ according to the images on the HP wiki, causes bubbles to form.

3\. In case you didn't notice, Hyacinth knew that she was pregnant at the Zabini wedding. She just hadn't told Draco yet.

4\. Also, I'm aware that Hindu weddings don't have bridesmaids, but I figured witches and wizards wouldn't have any particular religion.

5\. In 2004, both June 5th and July 31st really did fall on a Saturday.

6\. Ogden's Old Firewhisky is a brand, I know. I made up that 1805 year tag, figuring that the older it is, the more expensive, like wine. Real whiskey does have an expiry date, though.

7\. I have no idea why I started numbering the points I wanted to make.

* * *

 **AN:**

Thanks for reading this one-shot. If you enjoyed it, please do review and favourite. I put in hours of work (and 44 pages of text) into this, and would love feedback.

I also write other fem!Harry stories. If you liked this, you might like _31 Days of Winter_ , which features fem!Harry/Draco.

To those who read other stories of mine, I'll see you in July. :)


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